Status and Servitude
by Roove
Summary: Even with strict laws against the sale of skooma and moon sugar, drug deals can go unnoticed in the land of the dunmer. Sometimes, even the most upstanding citizens find themselves wanting.


Most people in civil society knew better than to throw a cat into water, so it was downright surprising that a fellow cat would betray their own in such a cruel way. It was why Ji'barri had found himself pacing through Tear, a city of southern Morrowind, practically resting right upon the unstable northern border of Black Marsh. Nevermind the fact that khajiit like Ji'barri were commonly used as slaves in the eastern province. The narcissistic dunmer of Morrowind themselves were naturally disdainful and distrustful of all other races. Even the caravan guards flanking Ji'barri at all times didn't do much to ease his discomfort. Ji'barri wasn't surprised when his presence was met with confused, scornful glares. Everything about this scenario made the khajiit's heart beat just a little more rapidly. Both the humidity in the city and the rabid glares from its citizens hung on Ji'barri like wet clothes.

The many pairs of red eyes on him had their reason, however, as the khajiit had a wooden cart in tow. Based on how he was dressed, Ji'barri was clearly no local caravaneer either, and everyone in the empire knew that foreign khajiits always brought trouble with them. Nevertheless, Ji'barri was one to graciously greet any curious buyer; he had wares if they had coin.

Not everything was for sale, however. The only reason Ji'barri found himself in this swamp of a city in the first place was because of a buyer who had requested a certain type of Double-Distilled Skooma. Poor, weary Ji'barri had been instructed to find the manor of Azaron Dren in Tear.

That was all why he was currently standing before that very dunmer himself, the cousin of some powerplayer, a Duke Vedam Dren, located further north in Morrowind. That all worried Ji'barri on some level. Azaron owned a decent-sized slave plantation, which Ji'barri had passed through on his way up to the manor. Luckily, if the situation turned foul, the skooma dealer had held the foresight to bring a Scroll of Divine Intervention with him. It was ready, should he need it. At the current moment, the khajiit's feline eyes were set on the gray, red-eyed pigeon who propped himself up before him.

Indeed, Azaron Dren was a well-bred pigeon. Even for this shady meeting with a foreign drug dealer, the Duke of Tear had taken care to dress himself in an ornate brocade shirt and silken pants that shimmered more than the gold leaf coating the manor's dinnerware. Two dunmer females flanked Azaron. One appeared to match the Duke in both age and her stern expression. The other was youthful and, despite the bored look on her face, eyed the three strange khajiit with a peculiar sort of interest. More people of all races lined the room. Their ranks didn't matter to Ji'barri. The only thing of interest was how exquisitely the members of the household were dressed. Even the house slaves wore embroidered tunics.

Both men and mer- and especially mer- may have lacked the glorious fur khajiit had, but Azaron had done something to what little he did possess. His groomed copper-colored beard was elegantly pointed and the hair on his scalp was sleek in the candlelight. He'd even done something with his eyebrows. Rather than the sparse, rugged strips of hair other men and mer had, Azaron's seemed thinner arched neatly above his eyes, eyes which burned with the same heat as Red Mountain itself. Ji'barri couldn't help but stare at the elf in abject fascination as Azaron straightened himself in his chair and spoke.

"You've arrived. I trust your journey was pleasant enough?" As was the case with most dunmer who remained in their homeland, Azaron's voice was deep, rough, and choked with the ash of Vvardenfell. Yet, it also held a slightly higher pitch to it, an inflection which was pleasant enough to make Ji'barri's ears twitch slightly. While it may have been rare for the Redoran in the north, that slightly imperialized voice was common to Azaron's own chosen house. How ironic was it that House Hlaalu was the one who cozied up the most to the Septims, yet was still so heavily dependent on something the empire was against? There were Argonian slaves present, but did armies of Argonia ever make themselves known in Tear?

As Ji'barri mulled over this, the corners of his feline mouth curned into a tight grin. "The air in this city is hot and wet. Ji'barri's travels were trying and long, but he would rather have sore feet than musky fur. Small talk is not Ji'barri's forte either, so…"

The duke leaned back in his chair, his hands folding across his slightly rounded belly. "Yes, I see your friends have what I requested." His red eyes fell upon the massive Cathay-raht guards standing on either side of Ji'barri. "If you would be so patient as to listen to your buyer though, I would like to debate the price of your wares, khajiit."

"We originally agreed on 10,000. Does this one mean to break his promise?"

"What promise? Prices are always up for negotiation. You should know this well, given your line of expertise. How about I give you 5,500 septims?"

A hiss escaped from Ji'barri and he grimaced. "Oh, so low. Ji'barri thought _Duke Azaron Dren_ would be fair in what he spends."

"That's not low and I am very fair. Let me say it again, I will give you 5,500 septims for the skooma."

"Is that all?"

"I am willing to pay over half. For the absurd price you want to charge per crate, 5,500 is more than fair for what I want."

"Khajiit would like at least 9,000."

"5,750", Azaron stated with a nod. "Or you return to your employer empty-handed."

"Perhaps 8,000 to warm Ji'barri's homesick soul?"

"6,000."

"Ji'barri would prefer 8,000."

"Well, I would give you 6,500 then."

"You deviate too much from the original price. Give Ji'barri 8,000."

"I will give you 6,750."

"Offer 8,000 or Ji'barri and the caravan leaves."

"Nevermind what I offered before. How about this: I will spend 5,000 septims on two of those crates."

"Tcha! We start with 10,000, then 8,000, and now this one will give only 5,000!"

"5,000 for a mere _two_ crates though."

"Still too low. Could this generous one not raise his price to 7,000?"

Azaron's dark brow furrowed. "I would think 5,000 is fair."

"Oh, but Ji'barri still must cover the expenses for transport out of Morrowind", Ji'barri purred. "And this skooma is so fine, so rare. Surely, this one wouldn't short-change poor Ji'barri. Let's go with, hmm, 7,250."

"6,000."

"Mm, no. 7,500 rings true."

"Oh, alright. Deal."

One of the servants lining the room, an altmer, had apparently had enough of Ji'barri's shenanigans. With the same grace all high elves possessed, he stepped forward, hands clasped in front of him. "Master Dren, please listen to reason", the elf insisted with a shake of his head. "You're letting yourself be used. I'm sure your own private alchemists could create a much finer skooma than this _cat _could ever get its paws on."

Even at his lofty height, the altmer snapped his thin lips shut like a steel trap as his superior's blood-ruby gaze fell upon him. "You've had _months_, Sanyon. None of you have been able to produce anything of this quality. What this cat has is worth every coin."

Flushed with embarrassment and frustration, the altmer stormed out of the room as Azaron Dren dipped a dark hand into one of the wooden crates Ji'barri placed before him. The rest of the viewers, whether they be family members or property, watched silently as the master of the house uncorked one of the delicate green bottles, held it up to his curved nose, then inhaled deeply.

Ji'barri's feline face remained stoic, though his slitted eyes had an amused glint in them even as he passively watched the dunmer lord sample the wares. The balance of power in Tamriel was heavily uneven, something that would most likely never change, but lowly Ji'barri rested easy each and every night because of circumstances like this humbling scene. _Anyone_ could be made into a slave in one way or another.


End file.
